


Sartorial Imperfections

by chibinocho



Category: A Charm of Magpies Series - K. J. Charles
Genre: Crack, Dress Up, Dresses, Drinking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27289879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibinocho/pseuds/chibinocho
Summary: On the back of a raucous night out before they leave England, Crane wakes up with a problem. And it's an embroidered, lacy problem.
Relationships: Stephen Day/Lucien Vaudrey
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25





	Sartorial Imperfections

**Author's Note:**

> So this was inspired by a joke on the KJ Charles FB group that had to be seen through. Written in a couple of hours so all mistakes are my own.

Lucien Crane woke up with a Limehouse brawl in his head and a Shanghai alleyway in his mouth. A cursory feel around and a crack of the eyes revealed that thankfully he was at least in his bed, even if the morning sun was mounting a direct assault on his eyeballs. He opened his eyes fully and groaned at the wave of nausea that bought, along with an unexplained tightness in his chest.

"Oh Christ." He moaned.

"Ah thought you were waking up." Stephen's voice was gravelly but cheerful. "How are you feeling?"

Crane raked his hands through his hair.

"Unless you have coffee with that question then fuck off."

It had been their last afternoon and night out in London before they left for the East in a few days. A motley collection of Justiciars and Crane's friends from the Traders all hitting the most disreputable drinking dens in and around the East End. It had been loud, raucous and a tremendous amount of fun.

Or at least if Crane could remember the last of it.

"I do have coffee." Said Stephen. "I thought it would be better if I bought it in. Merrick and Saint may also be suffering from a similar issue." He paused and Crane heard the clink of cups. "Actually I thought you may not want to see him just yet." 

Crane was alerted to the slight amused tone in Stephen's voice and tilted his head. The man was perched on the end of his bed wearing one of Crane's own shirts which was loose and flapping around his pale thighs. He looked delicious. And if Crane hadn't felt he been hit by a Hansom and that Stephen hadn't been hiding something then Crane would have pounced on him there and then.

"What is it Stephen?" He said suspiciously. "There's something. What is it? What happened?" Crane's voice was reaching the commanding tone which held a thread of irritation at Stephen's wickedly foxy grin which wasn't shifting off his face.

"Absolutely nothing at all … my lady."

"What do you mean my la-" Crane sat bolt upright in the bed and was nearly swallowed by heavy fabric. He looked down, went very still and glared back at Stephen who was trying to hold back laughter. "What the shitting hell is this?!"

"A rather elegant evening gown, I believe."

Crane scrambled off the bed - nearly regretting the action as his abused stomach protested violently - but staggered to the mirror to look at himself. Stephen was right, it was indeed an evening gown. An extremely flattering evening gown of a blue grey sheer silk and embroidered all over with peacock feathers. Pale blue edging and a sash in various shades of blue completed the overall appearance. An incredibly elegant article of clothing. Or at least it would have been if it hadn't been ten inches too short on Crane's long frame and with various seams splitting around the chest and shoulders, along with ladders along the sleeves.

"Well yes Mr Day, I think we can ascertain it's an evening gown but what is not clear is to why the blasted thing is on me." He folded his arms and winced as the motion split the back embroidery. "Start talking."

"After you and Merrick got thrown out of the Bunch of Grapes for teaching Jenny to sing every verse of Eskimo Nell, you spotted a dress in the window of one of the shops. You insisted on buying it for Jenny as a … I believe you called it … a Merrick-compensation gift. You barged in, demanded the dress be delivered here and be ready for Jenny once you got home. You caused quite a scene, Lucien."

Crane recalled standing in a very exclusive dress shop, arguing loudly with a horrified looking man. Saint had been cackling her head off and Merrick had refused to come in.

"I vaguely remember giving him a lot of money." He said frowning, looking faintly ridiculous with such a serious expression in a ridiculously undersized dress. Stephen nodded.

"I recall it was rather a lot. Anyway, we carried on and by the time we came back here, the dress was hanging on your door, beautifully wrapped by the way. You got out the brandy and insisted Jenny go and try it on and I believe she told you to go fuck yourself."

"Ungrateful swine."

"Well you were quite insistent and tried to take her brandy glass to do it."

"The lady had a point. It is a very good brandy."

"You then waxed lyrical about how lovely it was for a bit and then - ah…"

There was that voice again. Crane stalked up to Stephen and put one finger under his chin and lifted it.

"Go on. What aren't you telling me, you devious little witch?"

"I may have said something."

"What?"

"I believe it was 'well if you like it so much then why don't you put it on'. And you did. And I may have helped you … a bit."

Crane stared at his lover. Stephen was fighting not to burst out laughing still.

"You did this?"

"Maybe. You didn't object." 

Crane lifted the skirt of the dress and shook it out. It really was a splendid thing and he actually felt a pang of regret that he had ripped it so badly. He wondered if he could have the remnants to line one of his suits and wondered how he would frame that request to Hawkes and Cheney.

"I am fairly impressed you managed to get it on me at all." He looked back at himself in the mirror, almost admiring. With Stephen standing behind him in Crane's oversized shirt, they looked like two children who had hit the dressing up box hard. It was actually fairly amusing and far from the most embarrassing thing he had done.

"Well at least I didn't reach for the cosmetics and hair ornaments. And having turned into this example of sartorial imperfection am I to face the ridicule of Merrick and Mrs Merrick-to-be in a few hours?"

Stephen smiled.

"Ah no, by the time we had got you in the dress and you had stopped twirling and singing Eskimo Nell again, they had given up and gone to bed. This show has been only for my benefit." He looked Crane up and down again.

"Well my sweet, this show has ended. I am taking it off." 

"Be my guest."

Crane attempted to reach around the dress to grab at the tiny hooks and eyes holding it together. The bodice stretched and strained as he twisted, but gave him no quarter or allowance in trying to free himself. He swore viciously under his breath and tugged fruitlessly at the bodice.

"It's fucking stuck."

"Of course it is. These gowns usually require a maid's help to put them on. I take it you want assistance."

"Of course I want assistance! You are going to help me out of this right now. The last of the luggage is being taken today and I am not receiving them like this." 

Stephen's devious expression was positively vulpine.

"Stephen …" warned Crane, his voice low and dangerous.

"Make me, my lady."


End file.
